


Try, Try Again

by The_Bentley



Series: Angst Bingo Fics [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Friendship (Good Omens), Angst with a Happy Ending, Apocalypse, Episode: s01e03 Hard Times, Heaven, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, Lower Tadfield (Good Omens), M/M, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26550247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: "Armageddon only happens once, you know. They don't let you go around again until you get it right."Crowley was wrong.  Aziraphale was going around again until he got it right and the world was saved.  Repeating six thousand years over and over meant some memories were leaking through leaving Aziraphale with an idea of what was to come and a feeling that he was going mad.Angst Bingo Call: Time Loop
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Angst Bingo Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907074
Comments: 9
Kudos: 81
Collections: GO Angst Bingo 2020





	Try, Try Again

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue in the "Hard Times" inspired scenes, etc. pulled from The Quite Nice and Fairly Accurate Good Omens Script Book. It might not match the show, but my Blu-Ray player was being a little bitch.

The world ended with a blinding flash and he woke up at the moment of his Creation. Sitting up in the soft, pastel environment, he clothed himself in the white robe provided before walking out into Heaven itself. Other newly-created angels milled around, awaiting the Almighty to finish creating, come out and give them names and tasks. Until then everyone worked on perfecting their flying and miracle techniques. Friendships developed and cliques formed. He was not a part of the popular crowd, but being rather reserved, that didn’t bother him. He stuck with a quiet crowd of about four others. Together they learned to use their powers innately and fly without crash landing. He forgot all about the blinding flash that occurred before he woke up in Heaven as they waited for the Almighty to finish.

Finally, the last angel was created — a redhead, which was quite rare among the Host. He had only seen about five others. He had marvelled at their hair for a while before they became just more angels gathered in the waiting place. It wasn’t like his blond hair was that common, although there were a lot more blonds out there than redheads, but he digressed thinking about hair colour. What interested him was how familiar this particular redhead looked despite angels only just being created.

God began to name them. They lined up one by one to receive the name She chose for them. The redhead stood in line a few angels in front of him, but he did not hear the name he was granted. He was shunted off with the star makers. Soon, it was the blond’s turn to receive his name and he looked up God’s eyes that appeared like a black field covered with small points of white light. He did not know these were stars as such things had yet to be created, but they were unusual eyes. Every other inhabitant of Heaven had irises, pupils and sclera. That’s as far as his thoughts on eyes went as he was then addressed.

“Your name is Aziraphale. I have great plans for you.”

“Oh. Yes. Thank you, Lord.” What else did one say to God when She announced She had “great plans” for you? She probably said that to every angel. After all, they were Her creations. Her pride and joy. 

He was sent down to Earth to guard the Forbidden Tree. Wandering around the Garden it seemed familiar as if he had been here before. Closing his eyes and thinking about it, he could almost see a map of the entire place in his head. There were blooming hibiscus over by the waterfall and the fish who lived in the pond below it were varied in species. Hiking over there he saw the hibiscus bushes in full bloom and the many variants of fish in the pool. Not far from the waterfall was a cave that housed tame lions. Blueberry bushes and peach trees surrounded the area where Adam and Eve had made a rough shelter of leaved branches for a bit of privacy. He knew the tree those branches came from. How could he? He had only just arrived here.

There would a snake. His premonition told him there would be a snake, yet beyond that was foggy. He didn’t expect the results that happened any more than the shocked demon who was conversing with him. It was the familiar-looking redheaded angel, now Fallen, and he felt some camaraderie with him even though they had never met before. So, he got to know him.

~*~*~

_He’s going to ask me._

“Helloooooo, Aziraphale. So . . . giving the mortals a flaming sword. How’d that work out for you?”

The uncomfortable feeling Aziraphale knew he was giving off to Crawly was due more to what he felt than the answer he gave. At least he was able to cover it up with the equally uncomfortable discussion that followed. 

“But They’re drowning everyone else!”

Aziraphale nodded and prepared for Crawly’s scathing social commentary. 

~*~*~

Aziraphale wanted out of his heavy armour. All he wanted to do have a nice lie down and never chase after the Black Knight ever again. Crowley’s idea was looking pretty good in light of the aches, pains and exhaustion Aziraphale felt running around playing knight errant, but he couldn’t agree to it. Not yet. Angry more at the need to refuse than Crowley himself, he replied.

“No! Absolutely not! I am shocked you would even imply such a thing!”

“Right,” mumbled Crowley, hard to hear through the armour that covered his mouth.

“Right!” repeated Aziraphale before they parted ways.

~*~*~

Crowley was going to ask for holy water with the paper he passed to him in the park. Something told Aziraphale he had to refuse the request. Allowing himself to become upset again at Crowley's antics, he threw the paper in the pond and stalked off. Seeing the hurt in Crowley’s eyes, he regretted his comments about fraternisation that implied he didn’t need Crowley’s companionship. He very much did.

And he did for something important. The only problem was he didn’t know what that important something was.

~*~*~

He was posing as a gardener at the Dowling residence, there to teach young Warlock about kindness and living a good as life as possible. Meanwhile, Crowley was the boy’s nanny and was feeding him evil influences. But something was off. Something in his mind screamed this was the wrong boy and he kept seeing flashes of a sandy-haired youngster with blue eyes and a Jack Russel terrier at an airbase somewhere. He tried to make sense of it as he inexpertly trimmed the hedges but Crowley couldn’t be wrong, could she? She was the one to do the actual switch.

There’s no way she had messed up swapping two babies. No way at all. Hints of a complicated process swirled through Aziraphale’s mind and they concerned him.

~*~*~

“Don’t you want to rule the world?” Beelzebub asked Adam Young, voice dripping with fake sweetness.

“Adam. . .” Aziraphale tried to say. 

“No! I’m tired of people here telling what to do! Yes, I do want to rule the world if only because then nobody’ll tell me what I should be doing!” Adam yelled. “I’ll be telling them!”

Above them, the armies of Heaven and Hell clashed.

~*~*~

The world ended with a blinding flash and he woke up at the moment of his Creation. Sitting up in the soft, pastel environment, he clothed himself in the white robe provided before walking out into Heaven itself. Other newly-created angels milled around, awaiting the Almighty to finish creating, come out and give them names and tasks. . .

~*~*~

“Come to smirk at the poor bugger?”

Aziraphale turned, knowing that Crowley would be female this encounter. She stood there in her abaya, looking down on him slightly for Heaven’s involvement in the Crucifixion. Not that any of this was Aziraphale’s doing because he was too low-ranked to have a say in policy-making. It was his job to follow orders. There was nothing he could do but apparently follow a script that was set out before him and hope he got his lines right.

Watching the Crucifixion was like watching his own life. He was helpless to stop the path he was on and sometimes it felt like it was picking away at his sanity.

~*~*~

“Heads,” said Aziraphale, knowing very well it was going to be tails.

He chose heads because that was what needed to be done. The nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him that this Arrangement was important in the future and he needed to do everything possible to keep it going. If that meant sore buttocks from riding a horse to do a blessing then tempting some clan leader to steal cattle, so be it. But he was going to get his own favour in return. Shakespeare would complain about the low attendance any moment now, he knew. He didn’t know how he knew, but Aziraphale had long ago stopped trying to figure that out before he drove himself mad.

“It would take a miracle to get anyone to come see Hamlet.”

He gave Crowley a beseeching look, complete with puppy dog eyes. Crowley rolled his in reply, body language screaming how annoying he found this.

“Yeah. All right. I’ll do that one.”

Aziraphale was sure to give him his most grateful smile before popping another grape in his mouth.

~*~*~

This was important. Aziraphale knew this was important as he watched Crowley hop from foot to foot on consecrated ground.

“You’re all wasting your valuable running-away time.”

Aziraphale looked up upon hearing the whistle of bombs falling down and prepared the miracle that would save both of them. Soon they were standing unharmed on a pile of rubble and he was lamenting his books.

“They’ll be blown to bits!”

The bag of unharmed first editions was thrust at him and he stared at it in dumb surprise. 

"A little demonic miracle of my own," said Crowley as he picked his way through the rubble to the Bentley. “Lift home?”

Aziraphale felt flashes of love. It turned out they were coming from him.

~*~*~

Aziraphale and Crowley spent eleven years working together to make the Antichrist normal, but as they sat on a bench in the Crystal Palace watching Warlock vandalise property, something felt very off to the angel. He couldn’t put his finger on it, the feeling making him squirm uncomfortably as Crowley mentioned the hellhound. Trying to hide it, he suggested doing his magic act at the boy’s birthday party so they could watch for the dog to show up. It never did and he wasn’t surprised when as they sat in the Bentley together learning that it had been released by Hell. 

There was a lot more in play here than either of them realised.

~*~*~ 

Satan was breaking through the tarmac of the airbase, roaring his anger at his son’s defiance. Aziraphale stood rooted to his spot, unsure what to do. He picked up the flaming sword and grabbed Crowley’s hand, pulling him to his feet. 

“C’mon. We’ve got to help him.” 

Together they marched forward with Adam Young, the real Antichrist, to fight off the enraged devil. It wouldn’t work. All three of them would end up destroyed. 

~*~*~

The world ended with a blinding flash and he woke up at the moment of his Creation. Sitting up in the soft, pastel environment, he clothed himself in the white robe provided before walking out into Heaven itself. Other newly-created angels milled around, awaiting the Almighty to finish creating, come out and give them names and tasks. . .

~*~*~

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley seated at the bar drinking the passable house brown, his premonition telling him to interact with the obviously grumpy demon. It led to a lunch at Petronius’ new place and conversation that enhanced their budding friendship. It bothered Aziraphale that he felt he knew Crowley better than Crowley knew him because of nagging thoughts that circled in his head. But there was little he could do about that other than ponder how he managed to gain the bits and pieces of knowledge he had on Crowley. Smiling to cover up his puzzling thoughts, Aziraphale escorted Crowley to the restaurant where they enjoyed oysters together.

Aziraphale walked home afterwards feeling anxious about the premonitions he was getting. He had some time to sort them out, but when one looked at the big picture, only just.

~*~*~

“Crowley!”

He somehow knew he’d be there to rescue him, but he didn’t let that uncomfortable piece of information get in the way of his joy of seeing him. The chains would fall away, the executioner would get his just desserts and Aziraphale would get his crepes. It was just so unfortunate that it had to be with a demon dressed as a peasant with a bad hairdo. But one shouldn’t criticise one’s rescuers, should they?

Besides, parts of Paris were still rather lovely if you ignored all the revolutionaries. He might as well enjoy the company and the scenery. Try to forget it felt like he was just reliving history over and over again.

~*~*~

Starting to believe he was stuck in some kind of time loop, Aziraphale sat in the Bentley once again with a tartan Thermos as he waited for Crowley to get done with his meeting. 

“I work in Soho, I know things.” 

He knew things because he always knew things. He had been here before; he was so sure of it. They had been meeting in the same places in history over and over until he had parts of them all but memorised. Crowley needed the holy water for protection. It would become a means of self-defence in the future. So, Aziraphale handed it over as much as he hated doing so. 

He left a stunned Crowley in the Bentley, walking off back to his bookshop with a sinking feeling in his chest. The Apocalypse wasn’t that far off and he feared they would fail to stop it yet again.

~*~*~

“You’re so clever! How can someone as clever as you be so stupid?” Crowley stood in the crowd on the pavement in front of the bookshop with Aziraphale looking pained at Aziraphale’s announcement he was going to go try to talk to God.

“I forgive you.” It was all he could say. What was he supposed to tell Crowley? That he had spent the last six thousand years stuck in a time loop? That he knew things that were going to happen before they did and had nagging suspicions about others? That he was going to go to God and tell Her what was really going on and hope She would fix it? It sounded crazy even to him.

Crowley was upset. He was standing at the Bentley now telling Aziraphale that he was leaving and when he was off in the stars, he wouldn’t even think of Aziraphale. Aziraphale could hear the pain and betrayal in his voice. Then he was gone, speeding off down the street out of sight while Aziraphale regretted his actions. But they were the right ones. If Crowley went to Alpha Centauri this time around, he would be safe from the time loop. Aziraphale would be drawn back into it if he failed, but he reckoned some version of Crowley would be among the stars happy and free instead of forced to relive a history he didn’t know he had lived before many, many times. Tears in his eyes, Aziraphale continued to his bookshop to prepare to call the Almighty.

~*~*~

The earth shook beneath them as Aziraphale tried to keep his balance and Crowley writhed on the pavement chanting “Nonononono!” as Satan’s anger beat against the inside of his skull. He managed to rise to his knees, turning frightened serpentine eyes to Aziraphale, who wobbled again as another earthquake-like tremor hit them. Aziraphale was once again at a loss about what to do. Turning on his heel he strode over to grab his former flaming sword, bringing it back with every intention of marching straight off towards Satan even though he would just wake up in Heaven yet again. Then he stopped before the kneeling Crowley, looking down at him.

Maybe it wasn’t him who had to make the decision on what to do next. Maybe it was Crowley. Maybe he’d gotten it wrong all these long times around over and over. Maybe it was time to pass the torch. He looked at his sword then he looked thoughtfully at Crowley and he made up his mind.

“Do something!” he yelled, hefting the sword to get the demon’s attention before lowering it again. “Or I’ll never talk to you again.”

Crowley stood with a growl, throwing his arms in the air. Aziraphale found himself in a tranquil desert-like environment outside of time with Crowley and Adam. Of course! They were godfathers, weren’t they? Well, it was time to start being godfathers to the right child. And they gave eleven years of advice summed up as succinctly as they could to him right there. Nervously, they wrapped it up, grasping Adam’s hands so they were all linked in a united front against Adam’s biological father.

“I’m going to restart time now.” Crowley swung around the part of the Bentley he was carrying with him, jacket clean and sunglasses in place. Aziraphale carried the relit sword, bracing for the what he expected to come — waking up again in Heaven with only an inkling that he had been through this before. But Adam prevailed this time around and Satan was sent packing to be replaced by Adam’s human father. Crowley grinned at Aziraphale, who was sighing in relief as he hoped his nightmare was over.

“I really didn’t want to relive six thousand years over again,” he muttered.

“What?” asked Crowley.

“Nothing, my dear. We should probably head back to London.”

~*~*~

_A Year Later_

Aziraphale was shelving books when Crowley came up behind him, enveloping the angel in his arms and kissing him on the cheek.

“Hello, my dear. What have you been up to today?”

“Oh, nothing,” replied Crowley, dangling keys before Aziraphale’s nose. “Just headed south for a bit to check on that cottage we put an offer on.”

“We got it?” Aziraphale spun around excitedly.

“Yep. We’re free to start moving whenever we want. I suggest you start packing up those books.”

Aziraphale threw his arms around his demon, planting a loving kiss on his lips before responding.

“You do know if I bring all these books, we are going to have to add another addition.”

Crowley laughed. He’d add two additions if it meant keeping his angel happy. Pocketing the keys again, he took Aziraphale’s hand.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go celebrate at the Ritz. We can go look at the cottage again tomorrow.”

And a table once again became miraculously free.

**Author's Note:**

> This took a bit of planning. I looked at the Hard Times cold open vignettes and there are nine that both Aziraphale and Crowley are in. So, I decided three vignettes per loop, one scene of them in the eleven years before the events at the airfield and one at the airfield. The vignettes I wanted to stagger so they were more or less evenly spread out over the different time periods. So, here's what I came up with:
> 
> Ark (1st loop)  
> Golgotha (2nd loop)  
> Rome (3rd loop)  
> Wessex (1)  
> Globe (2)  
> Bastille (3)  
> St. James (1)  
> Blitz (2)  
> Soho (3)
> 
> Dowling’s (1)  
> Crystal Palace (2)  
> “I forgive you.” (3)
> 
> “Don’t you want to rule the world?” (1)  
> Satan Breaking Through (2)  
> “Do something!” (3)
> 
> I think it worked out pretty well.


End file.
